


Short Straw

by ZaliaChimera



Series: White Noise [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Project Freelancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a Recovery Agent is a dirty job, but sometimes it is the only way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Straw

"It should be a clean shot, all going well." North sights along the length of his rifle, aimed up and to the right of Maine's shoulder. A twitch a couple of inches that way and it could be putting a pretty fracture into Maine's helmet if North isn't careful.

Maine watches, a gruff noise of irritation escaping him.

"Yeah, I know." North chuckles and lowers the gun, leaning it against the ground. It's an odd laugh, that one. Once, back before things went so spectacularly to hell, Maine might have thought it meant amusement. Now, working so closely with him, Maine recognises it as strain, a soft release of tension that never really leaves him. "It's the best way."

The shrug of Maine's shoulders, turn of his head, is enough to get his point across. Better, best, are subjective terms, and they're not the ones making the definitions.

"No, not this time," North shakes his head. "This time I think I agree. It's what we should do."

Maine looks up at him again, the grit and grime of filthy purple armour. No such thing as pristine in the field. The last pickup had been messy. Brutal. Sloppy. 

Worrying.

"Not right," Maine says. Not what they do this for. Never been about recovering weapons and tech, no matter what the reports say.

North gestures widely, back the way they'd come. Gives a sharp shake of his head. Knows he's thinking it could have been South. "You saw the bodies, Maine. They were a goddam mess."

A soft huff of breath that isn't quite a laugh. 

North takes half a step backwards, settling into the kind of stance that he could hold for hours if he had to. He looks away, but his gaze lingers a moment too long on the scratched and bloodied white of Maine's armour. "Yeah I know. We've left messier but still..." He shakes his head, reaches up to undo the catches and pulls his helmet off. Looks tired. They both look tired. Maine just doesn't try to pretend otherwise. "It's getting more vicious. Rampancy is..."

Maine stands up, quick for his size. It. Not an it. They're weapons but they're not its. North holds his hands up, a placating gesture that means nothing when they're both armed to the teeth.

"He's not our rookie anymore, Maine. It's not Wash. It's the Meta."

"Don't know that."

North shakes his head. "Wash is dead. For all we know he died when they implanted him with that damn AI. He's... gone."

It sits badly. Carolina gone. York. South AWOL. Tex? If she's even still Tex. Could have been any of them. 

"No." Reaches for the brute shot, clips it to the back of his armour. "Need to know. For sure."


End file.
